Chemistry

He was a complex debacle, Sherlock Holmes. The toy that she had tragically wanted to test turned out to be the arrow in her heel. Moriarty had warned her about the Holmes' matriarch and the sheer magnitude of their connections. However, he never warned her about how much fun playing with Holmes could become and how in the end, it was her chemistry that failed her. Not that she was surprised – science had never been her strongest field of study at school. She left it to the sweet, smart boys who did it for her.

Now, she was standing with him on a port. She was to sail and never return. Holmes – the cold, chilling never been touched – had saved her life. He had come to her hour of need even though she knew she would have never returned the favour if the roles had been reversed. Or… would she? The taste of a man's lips on hers had always been indifferent, repulsive and needy. But even the touch of his skin was enough to make her heart palpitate to the edge of containment. It was the thrill of adventure. Sherlock Holmes thrilled her. And if she could deny everything else, she could certainly not deny that.

The boat was coming. She turned to him and he was watching her, as if he was drilling into her thoughts. He was frustrated because he couldn't. She couldn't allow him to win twice. Reaching for his hand, she took it and faithfully handed him her phone. Her life. It was worthless to her now.

'You will never hear from me again.' He uttered simply.

She watched him with a stretched smile. He was so, naturally cold and yet in that concrete heart was something else. She found herself reaching forwards and pressed a soft, meagre peck on his cheek. He was still, yet she heard a short intake of breath as her lips glazed across his cheek.

Body Chemistry. It fails you too, she noted dutifully as her eyes fell on his hands which seemed to tremble at her touch.

'Do, take care, Sherlock Holmes.' She uttered simply in return, pulling back, brushing against the surface of his skin purposely. Her eyes were large and she watched him, licking her lips naturally knowing that this was the last time she was to see him. This remarkable man, she wanted to know more about. They spent such little time and her imagination grew vivid as she thought about other things she wanted to tell him. Discuss with him. But they had to part. Good things never last, after all.

She never minded for she had never been attached to people. Things. However, her quivering heart remained beating as their farewell edged ever closer. He stepped back to leave and she glanced at him. There was a brief exchange of eyes as he swallowed – discomfort – and bowed his head.

'I hope I make it to John's blog.' She murmured with a smile as he blinked at her.

'I will make sure that you get at least a mention.' He responded back, with almost a smile.

'Don't forget me.'

The words that slipped from her lips involuntarily opened her eyes and he eyed her, scrutinizing her change of expression. She concealed the shift with a smile and then she turned, eyes fleeting longingly towards the liberated horizon. She allowed for a few minutes of silence and when she next turned, the man was gone. The spot from where he stood remained in her vision as she pulled against the corners of her hood and turned away. A soft, longing smile tugged at her lips.

'You were never one for goodbyes,' she murmured delicately, 'Goodbye Sherlock.'

She emitted a long sigh and decided that if she had someone like him at her school - perhaps, she would have paid more attention to Chemistry. Oh Chemistry. The most complicated of sciences - debated, significant and occasionally argued with. However it will always be admired.

Sherlock Holmes, to Irene Adler would always be The Man- he who finally taught her how to behave.

Goodness, she was going to miss him.

A/N: Another one. I'm writing this at quite late; forgive me if it's awful. Ta, and yay for season 2!